Sprinkles
by Debs1990
Summary: Written for Round 13, Season 4 of QLFC. Angelina struggles in the aftermath of the 1994 Quidditch World Cup riot and worries about there being another war. Fred comes to find her and does his best to reassure her.


**Sprinkles**

Written for QLFC Round 13, Season 4.

Beater 2

Appleby Arrows

Prompts: (Quote) "Get your facts first, then you can distort them as you please." _Mark Twain_

(Dialogue) "Revenge is a dish best served with sprinkles."

Task: Write a fluffy story that mentions Morsmordre.

WC. 1285

* * *

Angelina Johnson shivered as the frigid wind breezed past her. It had been a warm day, and the sudden, icy intrusion was rather unwelcome. She wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to stay warm, but her attempts were futile. Oh well, she would have to return to her tent soon before her parents got worried; they probably already were. However, she needed a few more minutes to herself.

Being so lost in her thoughts, Angelina didn't hear the footsteps approaching behind her. A soft, warm blanket placed on her shoulders was what first alerted her to someone else's presence. She turned around and smiled weakly at her friend.

"Hi, Fred. What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question. Your parents are worried, so I told them I would help find you. It's not safe out here and you shouldn't have gone off like that."

Not knowing how to respond, she remained silent. Fred kept remarkably quiet for a minute, clearly waiting for a response. When it became obvious that he wasn't going to get one, he broke the silence with a sigh.

"Are you okay, Ange?"

"No."

Her answer seemed to startle him slightly. Perhaps he'd expected her to lie and say everything was fine; there was nothing fine about their situation, though. In truth, things were looking bleaker than ever, and she'd realised this for the first time tonight.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

Fred rolled his eyes at her stubbornness. "Fine. Then I guess we should head back to your tent, then."

It was Angelina's turn to roll her eyes at him. "I'm sure I can get there without your help, thank you very much," she snapped.

Her friend winced slightly at her harsh words, and Angelina wished she could take them back. Fred spoke before she could apologise. "Well, I guess I'll leave you alone then. Come back soon, though—for your family's sake. Goodnight, Angelina."

Fred turned away and walked off. Angelina longed to call out to him, but her pride wouldn't let her.

 _I'm going to be starting my sixth year, and I certainly don't need Fred Weasley—or anyone else, for that matter, to babysit me._

However, her confidence faded when she cast one last, furtive glance at the sky. The emerald coloured skull was still there, with the serpent projecting from its mouth like a tongue; the Morsmordre incantation—used by Voldemort and his Death Eaters many years ago. Now someone was using it again. She shivered, despite the warmth of the blanket Fred had given her. Fred. She needed to find him.

Jumping shakily to her feet, Angelina set off to find her friend. She struggled to keep her tears at bay as she looked around what had once been a campsite. Some of the tents were caught on fire during the raid, and they were now burned to a crisp. Angelina pictured family's fast asleep in their tents, and she shuddered, hoping they got out in time.

"Fred!" she yelled, not wanting to be left alone. "Where are you? I'm sorry."

Unsurprisingly, she didn't get a reply. She circled around hopelessly, not wanting to admit that she was lost in the graveyard of charred tents, with no clue how to get back to her own. Curse her for being so proud and stubborn.

"Are you okay?" a familiar voice asked.

"Fred!" she cried with relief. "I'm so sorry about earlier."

Fred grinned. "It's fine, Ange. We've all had the night from hell so don't worry about it."

Angelina took a deep breath and swallowed her pride. "I'm lost. Please could you escort me to my tent?" she asked, trying to insert some humour into the situation by acting like a damsel-in-distress.

Taking the cue, Fred bowed. "Of course, my fair maiden. I would be delighted to escort you back to your tent."

They linked arms and headed left. _I probably would've gone right,_ Angelina thought to herself with amusement. Directions never were her strong point.

"I bet you would've gone straight on or right," Fred remarked with a laugh.

"Are you a secret legilimens?"

"Nope. I just know you inside out."

"That's worrying."

"Not really. I might not have come back if I didn't know you'd struggle to find the way on your own."

"Am I really that weak to you?" she asked, slightly hurt.

"Of course not, Ange. I've always liked your strength and determination, but directions are a weakness of yours; that doesn't mean I think that _you_ are weak."

She smiled, pleased at his words of praise—even though she currently didn't feel strong or determined. They walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes until Fred cleared his throat and spoke again. "Why did you take off like that?"

The question had been on the tip of his tongue for a long time, but she was still unprepared. In the end, she settled on the truth. "I was scared, Fred. I saw what happened to the Roberts family, and I had to get away. They're back, and the wizarding world will be in chaos once again. What if there's another— "

"Get your facts first, then you can distort them as you please. Many of his most loyal followers are where they belong—in Azkaban. Voldemort is _not_ going to return."

Angelina wished that she could believe his words and take comfort in them, but she was still full of uncertainty. "How can you know that for definite? I'm sure you would've sworn that Death Eaters couldn't get onto the campsite, but they did. The Dark Mark is in the sky, Fred, as bold as brass!"

Tears fell freely now, and she brushed them away furiously. Fred had never seen her cry before—not even after bad Quidditch injuries. It surprised her greatly when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. "It's going to be okay, I promise. The Aurors will do their best to track down the wizards involved, and they will pay for their crimes when they end up in Azkaban with the Dementors. Revenge is a dish best served with sprinkles, after all."

"I thought revenge is a dish best served cold?"

"Nah, that's boring. Think outside the box a little, Ange."

"Okay," she said with a small giggle. "Sprinkles it is."

Fred planted a kiss on her forehead. "That's my girl."

She was glad that the darkness hid the blush that had appeared on her cheeks. "We'd better keep moving."

"We're nearly there now," Fred reassured.

A few minutes later, they arrived at her tent. Luckily, their tent was relatively unharmed, and the small damage it attained was easily fixed. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me. Your parents weren't the only ones worried, you know."

"I know. I'm glad you're alright, Fred."

"I'm glad you are, too."

They stepped forward and pulled each other into a tight hug. As they pulled back, their eyes met and they stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, but was actually only a few seconds.

"Well, goodnight, Ange."

"Night, Fred."

He started to walk off and Angelina watched him leave once more. Summoning every ounce of her Gryffindor bravery, she ran to catch up with him.

"What's— "

"No talking."

She grabbed him and claimed his lips in a tender kiss. Looking in his eyes, she was thrilled to see a gobsmacked expression on his face. Surprising Fred Weasley was something she didn't manage often, and she would cherish this moment for many years to come. Without another word, she turned around and walked back to her tent, bracing herself for the telling off she was no doubt about to receive.


End file.
